Before
by minorxcrisis
Summary: ONE-SHOT. What truly triggered Artemis' Atlantis Complex? Was it merely guilt from his 'adventures' with the fairies or something a little deeper? Warning! Cutting! Do not read if you do not like.


**A/N: PEOPLE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! DON'T READ IF YOU CAN'T STAND IT!**

**For the angst-loving person who knows who she is.  
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><p>Artemis strode into his room, as dignified a manner and quickly as possible. "Door," He intoned in Gnomish, activating the emergency lock on his door, creating an impenetrable force-field barrier Foaly's probes and cameras could not reach, and locking himself away from his family, alone in the room. He sat on the bed; arms tightly wrapped around his knees and took in deep, ragged breaths.<p>

What is wrong with me, he wondered wildly. This was already the fourth time he had felt this way—so...so small, so insecure, so ... useless.

I am the youngest, most successful criminal mastermind in the world. Nothing should bother me and I am always prepared, I always have a plan. He told himself steadily, in an almost hypnotizing way to regain some control. It didn't work. He continued to shiver with pent-up emotions, feeling colder than he had ever felt. Nothing seemed to work anymore. He buried his head in his hands in exasperation. Artemis Fowl, Brilliant criminal mastermind, unable to even control his own dratted emotions and possibly, sanity.

Just the simplest of things had set him off so easily. There was no back-up plan to save him now... from himself...

Flashback

Artemis walked into his study and a paper plane hit him straight in the face, lodging itself in his hair. He groaned and pulled it out, unfolding the paper. His eyes widened as he realized what he was seeing "...WHAT?" It was one of his numerous retiring fund plans, this one concerning the modification and sale of some fairy technology. Artemis stared at the room around him in horror. The neat stacks of paper he had arranged on his desk were gone. Instead, they had been converted into numerous paper air planes and miniscule paper cities. Books were displaced from his bookshelves and now piled in the centre of the room, a flying platform. Artemis could feel beads of sweat gathering on his brow. If there was one thing he highly detested besides not having gold, it was disorder and mess. How was one's mind supposed to function properly if everything was scattered across the place? Of course, right smack in the middle of the pile were...

"Beckett, Myles!" Artemis choked out, in a tone nearing hysterical. "What, on earth, are you two done to my study?"

Said two looked up from their business, Myles measuring the wingspan of a plane and Beckett painting a plane. Both were covered in splotches of green and yellow. They grinned impishly. "We're making an air city!" "Artemis, come play!"

Artemis sighed. He loved his little brothers, he really did but if there was one thing he couldn't stand was the mass destruction of his study and his important plans, especially the ones related to the fairy folk. "Beckett, Myles; How many times have I told you not to touch the papers in my study? Couldn't you have used the drawing paper from your playroom?"

Myles blinked. "Not enough," he replied, pointing to a couple of 'air buildings. "Only built half a city."

"Next time, ask me first if you need paper. Don't—"

Just then, Artemis Fowl the first and Angeline walked in.

"Mummy! Daddy!" The twins leapt up without hesitation and ran into their parents' open arms, paint-splatted and all. Fowl senior chuckled and took turns swinging the twins around while Angeline clucked behind, telling him to be careful.

Artemis stood in the background, smiling fondly at his family. Fowl senior caught sight of him and gave him a slightly crooked grin. "Hey, Arty," He greeted his son awkwardly and slightly embarrassedly, almost as though he was unsure how he was supposed to act in front of Artemis. A moment of awkward silence broke the previously blissful, perfect family picture. Artemis' smile froze on his face. A family, not his, he realized sadly. One happy without him, with him blending into the background.

He knew that his parents loved him, but there was always this sense of awkwardness when he was around in the same room, as though they did not know what to do around him anymore.

Fowl senior glanced at the surroundings and whistled. "You two little scamps busy at work, eh? Your brother's study is completely trashed. What's all these about? " He picked up a sheet of paper lying at his feet.

Oops...Artemis could most certainly guess what it was about. He winced inwardly as his father read it out loud. "Plans to increase the Fowl wealth... one, exploitation of..." Fowl senior frowned.

"Arty, haven't we gone through this before? We do not need anymore gold. Wealth is not all that matters, what matters most is the family."

"But father, we are no longer one of the top 5 richest Irish families; we have dropped to seventh position. In order to maintain our position, we need to increase our wealth by 6 percent..."

Fowl senior sighed. "Arty, I am very disappointed in you. I know what I said before: Aurum Est Potestas, and I'm sorry I ever did. Times have changed and we all need to loosen up. Our family's happiness is so much more important than anything on earth."

"But it would really be a waste, sir, after so much hard work over—"

"Enough!" Fowl senior half-shouted. He ran a hand through his hair wearily, and spoke in a softer tone.

"I do not wish to argue with you over this anymore, Arty. I know you care a lot about the family's wealth but why can't you care more about the people in this family instead? Perhaps, try to spend more time with all of us instead of always being so distant and always holed up in your room. And for the record, stop calling me 'sir', it's 'dad'. I know it's hard, but why can't you just try a little harder to integrate into this family? We are all trying our very best already, but ninety percent of the times we want to ask you to attend a social function or family vacation, you are too wrapped up in all your mini projects to be bothered or even present. You are just like a block of ice. Last of all, I say again, Gold is not power." He turned to the twins. "I want you two to understand this as well and not make the mistake as with Artemis. Material riches mean nothing on this earth compared to our families and our love. I really hope you absorb this, Artemis."

He turned back to appraise the twins' handiwork as they eagerly showed him their creations, but as he did so, muttered softly to himself: "I hope the twins will not turn out like Artemis." It was less than a whisper, and yet Artemis' keen ears caught it, word for word. Artemis turned his gaze to his mother who regarded him with sad, doleful eyes which spoke on their own: "Why did you have to turn out this way, Arty?"

Suddenly, Artemis could not take it anymore. He could feel hot tears prickling at the back of his eyes, and he had not cried since 3 years ago. The cool, composed mask slid back in place and he returned to his room, wounded.

End Flashback

The tears came, hot and furious. Artemis did not know what exactly was wrong with him. He was becoming far too emotional for his own liking.

He was just so confused. It was really hard to completely change views after 10 constant years of hearing his father lecture him about the importance of gold, and treating his son like an adult, a distant business partner instead of a child.

Sometimes, Artemis wished things were back to what they were at that time. At least, he knew what was expected of him and how to accomplish it then. Now, everything he had known was gone.

But one thing remained the same—Artemis was never able to meet his father's expectations. In his father's disappearance, he had poured in all his effort into maintaining the family wealth on the hope that when his father returned one day, he would be pleased to find that Artemis had lived up to his very expectations and carried on the family name with honour and prestige. But that was not to be as Artemis Fowl the first came home an utterly changed man.

Even now, he was unable to meet up to his father's expectations, especially after the twins' birth. Artemis had really tried his best to involve himself and show his love, but still, he was a bad role model to his younger brothers in every way and overly distant from the family. The cool and calm mastermind his father had trained him out to be, to think logically and not through his feelings, had all but crashed down on himself.

_Why can't you just try a little harder to integrate into this family?_

_You are just like a block of ice_

_Not make the mistake as with Artemis_

_Why did you have to turn out this way, Arty?_

Artemis did not know who, or even what he was anymore.

Artemis sobbed silently, wave after wave of years of suppressed emotions crashing over him, threatening to overwhelm. He cried for 10 minutes before his logical and unfeeling side set in again.

_Why did you have to turn out this way, Arty?_

No, I cannot show weakness. I have always been strong; I just have to try even harder. I must prove to father that I can meet his expectations and be a good role model to the twins, he thought and desperately tried to wrestle control over his emotions. There was only one way to settle it.

He grasped around his book shelves and found what he was looking for, a thin blade hidden between two books. This was what had kept him sane and his usual calm self for years, ever since his father's disappearance. He had never expected that he would use it even more when his father reappeared, but it had served him well.

_Why, Arty?_

He pulled up his sleeves, all the way to expose the shoulders and upper arm. Thankfully, the suits served more than enough to cover up the numerous scars he had gained throughout the years. Selecting a spot on his upper arm, he pressed the blade down and cut. Relief was almost instantaneous, pouring through him like a candle shining through the darkness, chasing all the shadows away. Artemis cut thrice, one for his parents, one for the terrible brother he was to his siblings, one for the endless confusion. He savored the pain as it cleared his mind till it was as clear as water.

Artemis shuddered to think of how he could have survived without his trusty blade. It was his darkest secret, one that not even Butler knew. Thanks to it, he had managed to get through every situation composed and confident. _It__ is __ironic_, he thought, _that__ in__ order__ to__ keep __myself __sane __I__ have__ to__ do __something__ completely __insane._ That was why he kept it a deep secret, or he would have certainly been placed in a mental institution years ago.

He traced each scar that ran across his shoulder and upper arms, crisscrossing each other. He could remember the origins of every single one. It served to remind him of all his fears, his vulnerability, which he both hated and liked; to prove that he was still a human being, he still _felt_. He needed it.

And for now, it would do.

Artemis composed himself. Once sure that the world renowned—or perhaps _worlds_ renowned—teenage mastermind was colder, unmovable, more determined and undeniably devious, he unlocked the room. There was much work to do, starting from the global warming prevention plan. Already, the cogs in his head were turning furiously and he could sense the beginnings of a usual genius plan. He pressed the intercom button.

"Butler? Your presence is required immediately. Something huge is coming along."

Butler replied instantly. "On my way, Artemis."

Artemis leaned back in his swivel chair with satisfaction. Oh yes, he was about to change the world once again. For a moment, his resolve wavered. _Perhaps...__perhaps __father __would __be __proud__ of __me...but...__I __have __done __so __much __he__ already __disapproves__ of,__ will __this __be__ enough?_

Suddenly, something golden flickered in Artemis' vision and for one moment he thought childishly, "Gold!" The golden object solidified and he saw clearly a number four made of pure gold. For some reason, it bothered him very much. _Four.__Or __Si, __in __the __Chinese __Language..._

_Death._

NO! Artemis blinked rapidly and the number disappeared abruptly. He could feel cold beads of sweat gathering above his brow. Four. Was he really going insane?

Butler chose that moment to appear. "Are you ok, Artemis?" He asked worriedly, seeing the boy's wan face.

"W...Why, of course." Artemis forced an emotionless mask over his face. "There is much to do, Butler. Firstly, we tackle global warming..."

The End


End file.
